


Sozzled

by twokisses



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Banter, Caretaking, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21595780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twokisses/pseuds/twokisses
Summary: Simon is drunk. Baz is amused, and annoyed, but mostly smitten.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 16
Kudos: 251





	Sozzled

**Author's Note:**

> was sent a prompt for "a preeetttyyy tipsy snow being absolutely adorable and clingy and baz being amused/concerned/totally smitten with this ridiculous idiot" over on my tumblr (@sbazzing as well)! i had lots of fun writing this. get ready for pure banter and fluff for 1.9k words! enjoy. x

It isn't until he's witnessing it for the first time that Baz realises: he's never seen Simon Snow drunk before.

Not that he had any reason to wonder about it. But if he'd been asked to predict what a sloshed Simon would be like, he would have described him behaving exactly the way he is now -

Walking over to everybody in sight. Slinging an arm around their necks. A smile never falling off his lips and a laugh always close at hand. His blue eyes are the brightest things in the room. His shoulders are rolled back, and a swagger has made its way into his step. Everything he does is easy. Relaxed. Confident.

Generally, Baz hates drunk people. But this is... well, it's just Simon on a normal day, really. With some of his usual inhibitions and anxiety dissolved into nothing. He's not being obnoxious. He's just having a good time - and everyone at this party is drinking it up. (The crowd is mostly made up of Simon and Penny's uni mates, one of which is the owner of this pseudo-mansion they're in.)

Baz leans against the wall in one corner of the room, absently watching the way Simon moves from one group to another, leaving each one with a few dozen more smiles than there were before he joined them.

"Where's Mr. Sociable?"

It's Penelope. She's drifted over from the drink table with something dark and suspicious sloshing around in her cup. She seems fine, mostly - just on the right side of tipsy. Baz himself has only taken two sips from his Bloody Mary (a choice Simon had a field trip with earlier).

Baz lifts his index finger off his glass and points to Simon, across the room. "Off being social."

"Without you?"

Baz shrugs. "I needed a break. The Normality was becoming too much for me."

"Stuck-up," Penny accuses.

"You didn’t even want to come tonight!” Which is true. This was Simon’s idea. He took one look at the invite on Penny’s phone and declared that they’d be going.

 _You need more friends, Penny!_ he said.

 _Oh, like you have so many!_ Penny protested.

_Yeah, so it must be really bad, if I’m the one telling you to get some._

It was just bad timing for Baz to be there. He got roped into it.

"I've acclimated to the Normals,” Penny admits, in response to Baz’s accusation. But she wrinkles her nose slightly, like the thought isn't entirely pleasing to her. "They grow on you, I suppose."

"That's true." Baz nods thoughtfully. "Like a fungus."

Penny snorts. Baz quirks a smile, then casts his eyes around the room again for the person who’s actually enjoying himself. He never could keep his eyes off Simon, but it seems particularly impossible tonight. He just feels a need to keep an eye on him in this particular setting. It's not that Baz doesn't trust him. Far from it. He doesn't trust _other_ people, especially drunken college Normals with wandering hands.

But he doesn't see him.

"Where's Snow?" he asks.

"Right here," says Simon's voice, warm, and right into Baz's ear.

Baz doesn't jump (he has some dignity), but he does start a little. A pair of strong arms loop around his waist, and a moment later he feels Simon press into him from behind. His warmth is like a hearth fire all along Baz's back. Baz leans into it without thinking.

"Hey," Simon says. Baz hears the grin in his voice and turns to look at it. It's gorgeous, especially heart-stopping when paired with those big blue eyes. At the moment, they're bright and filmy from alcohol.

"Well, you look familiar," Baz replies. He rests an arm on Simon's, wrapped around him.

Simon shoves into him a little, making Baz's drink swish dangerously close to the rim. "I wasn't gone _that_ long!" he protests.

"Shouldn't you know by now, Simon?" Penny says. "Dramatic pining is Basilton's shtick." Baz glares. Penny beams.

"I know,” Simon says, which earns him the glare next. His grin just becomes wider. "I think it's cute."

Baz makes a face. "Don't call me cute."

"Cute," Simon sings. Like a five-year-old. He begins popping messy kisses along Baz's shoulder and neck, repeating, 'cute, cute, cute.' Penny mimes a retch. Baz rolls his eyes.

"How drunk are you?" he asks, gently shouldering Simon's mouth away.

Simon lifts his hand into the air and (unsteadily) brings his thumb and index finger close together. "This much. Wait, no - " The gap widens. “This. Hmm… no...”

Baz raises an eyebrow. He looks to Penny. “I think we should be going.”

"Oh, good.” She heaves a great sigh of relief. “I’ll message the host in the car. Let's go.”

-

Baz drives, since he’s the only one sober enough to. Once they reach Simon and Penny’s apartment building, Penny takes charge of the doors while Baz half-drags Simon behind her. The stairs pose a particularly alarming challenge at first, what with Simon barely being able to walk properly on level ground, but Penny _**Up, up and away**_ 's them once she's checked that no one is around. (It’s an impressive feat of magic, transporting three full-grown humans up four flights of stairs.)

Penny throws her coat onto the rack the moment she’s through the front door of their apartment. Then she turns to Baz, who has a swaying Simon in the curve of one arm, and eyes them for a moment.

“I can handle him,” Baz assures her, reading the look in her eyes.

She looks immensely relieved. “Call me if you need anything,” she says, and Baz nods. “Goodnight. ‘Night, Simon.”

“Goodnight,” they both reply, Baz saying it, Simon singing again. Penny shakes her head at them in amusement, then heads off to her room. She leaves her door cracked open.

Baz heaves a short, preparatory sigh. "Alright, Snow. Come on, shoes off.” He begins pushing his own shoes off with his heels. Simon shifts away slightly, lifting his arm off Baz’s shoulders so he can bend over to untie his shoelaces. Baz lets him, keeping a light hand on his lower back to provide some support.

This, as it turns out, is not near enough for a drunk Simon. He’s lost his balance and is on the ground before Baz can catch him, landing with a loud _thud_ followed by bubbles of laughter. Baz looks at him, half-sitting on the ground with his legs spread out and his blood-red wings flapping a little as he doubles over, and can’t help his own laugh. It’s incredulous and helpless, and also terribly adoring.

“You’re a mess, Snow,” he says, shaking his head.

Simon sniffs and wipes his eye with the back of his hand. “Didn’t you say that’s why you like me?”

“I did.” Baz kneels in front of Simon, reaching to undo the knot in his sneakers that he only managed halfway. “Although I wonder why, sometimes.”

“You’re joking,” Simon says, pointing a finger at Baz’s face like an accusation. Baz smiles down at Simon’s shoe and shrugs slightly.

“I am.”

That appeases Simon. He stays quiet as Baz gets his other shoe off. Once the pair of them are set neatly aside, Baz reaches forward and takes Simon’s hands in his. “There. Now let’s get you to bed.” He leans back on his heels and tries to pull Simon back into a standing position with him, but Simon doesn’t budge. He pulls back stubbornly on Baz’s grip.

“Nooo,” he says, almost pouting. _Pouting._ Baz’s heart was not ready for tonight.

“No? And why not?”

“I’m sleepy.”

“You can sleep. In your bed.” Baz gives Simon’s hands another pull. “Which is a few short steps away from you.”

“I can’t move.”

Baz rolls his eyes. “What do I have to do? Carry you?”

Simon’s eyes light up.

Baz: “No.”

“Baz!”

“I am not carrying you to your bed. Are you five?”

“ _You_ said it.”

“It was meant as a _joke_.”

“Then I’m sleeping on the floor.” So saying, Simon withdraws his hands from Baz’s and defiantly crosses his arms over his chest.

Baz says, “You are not serious.”

Huge blue eyes blink up at him. Simon looks as serious about this as he did when faced with the chimera in fifth year.

Baz closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath, and a moment to wonder what loving Simon Snow has done to him. Then he bends down, hooks one arm around Simon’s back, the other under his knees, and lifts him up.

Simon’s laugh is pure surprise and joy. It makes Baz smile, despite wanting to hold onto his annoyance. Warm arms wrap loosely around his neck as he walks over to Simon’s door, and Baz feels Simon’s mouth brush sweetly against his jaw. Simon is a sturdy, steadying weight in his arms, solid through and so warm Baz considers dropping right into bed with Simon and going to sleep, so he doesn’t have to let go of him (maybe this carrying idea wasn’t so bad, after all).

But Simon’s still tipsy, at best, and he needs water on top of a change of clothes. Baz kicks his door open and doesn’t bother with the light when he enters. The window has been left open - the light from the streetlamps and the moon are just fine for Baz’s purposes. He navigates easily to the side of Simon’s bed, then very carefully leans over and places him in it. Simon lets out a soft sound of satisfaction as he sinks into the mattress and pillows. His hands slide from Baz’s neck down to Baz’s forearms, and try to tug him down as well. Baz resists with great restraint.

“I need to get you out of these,” he says, sliding a hand gently down Simon’s clothes.

“I don’t know if I have the energy, Baz.”

Baz’s cheeks burn. He shoves at Simon’s shoulder. “Shut up. That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” Simon giggles, faint and sleepy. Baz shakes his head for what feels like the tenth time tonight, then pulls away (regretfully) and sets about his task with determined efficiency. It’s hard, with Simon spread out beneath him, loose and relaxed and very inviting. Baz wants nothing more than to wrap himself in Simon’s arms and to hell with everything else until morning. But he’s a good boyfriend above an indulgent one (usually). He gets Simon out of his sweaty T-shirt and tight jeans, then pulls the blanket over him, tucking the edges around his shoulders. Simon’s eyelids are heavy now. They droop over the blue like a bulldog’s.

Baz kisses each one, then Simon’s mouth. He lingers, and Simon hums.

“I’m going to get you some water,” he whispers. “Then I’m going to put it on your table.”

“Stay here tonight,” Simon mumbles. Something goes soft in Baz’s chest - it’s that unguarded feeling he gets, whenever Simon is like this.

“I will,” he promises. Then he goes to get the water. By the time he comes back, Simon is out, the only sign of life being the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathes. Baz puts the glass on the bedside table, as promised, then sheds his own outer shirt and tosses it into Simon’s hamper before climbing into the bed. He left the blanket below Simon’s shoulder blades earlier, to allow room for his wings to stretch out. And one of them does, now, responding - maybe instinctively, maybe by habit - to Baz’s weight in the bed, folding out and then over Baz to form a kind of canopy.

Baz presses his smile into Simon’s hair. It’s still there when the world slowly, eventually falls away.


End file.
